


Flux

by ozomin



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:14:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23252293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozomin/pseuds/ozomin
Summary: Hanamiya has a soulmate, he wishes he didn't.
Relationships: Hanamiya Makoto/Kiyoshi Teppei
Comments: 10
Kudos: 86





	Flux

**Author's Note:**

> hello, kiyohana owns my life again. I might have more abo concepts that if they get written will probably end up here ;; enjoy~

Hanamiya wishes he could scratch out the ache that blooms in his chest when the pheromones hit him. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. Why couldn't he be one of the lucky ones that just never meets his soulmate. It was still a trash idea to him, despite the proof of it right there on the other end of the hall. 

And when Hanamiya confronts him, trashes his reputation and his ability, the ache is still there, little abortive tugs of pitted red threads urging him forward, to pull the rest of him together because there's a piece of him so close, singing, beaconlike, to be pressed back into one piece and Hanamiya hates it. 

He hopes leaving the room will grant him reprieve and hide the supposed missing part of himself once more, push it somewhere where he doesn't have to think about it anymore, where he can pretend it never happened. 

But it stays stubbornly put. Stuck there to his sinews, sewn in practically, no budging, no opportunity for him to claw it out no matter how much he wants to. It makes him sick. 

So he resolves to destroy it. 

When Hanamiya slides his own foot forward, snaps his fingers, completely hidden from the refs until Kiyoshi's body hits the floor and the commentators are saying he's not getting up, for one fleeting moment Hanamiya feels he's overcome it, the line between brain and instinct is so fully severed he thinks himself superior for pushing it aside like so many have been unable to. 

He's suddenly alpha by his own choosing. 

Then suddenly the fleeting moment is gone. Dissipates into the air like fog moving out of the curves of a gulf to higher rolling hills. Kiyoshi's wheeled off the court amid claps and then there's a similar sharp thudding like blood is rushing too fast starting in the tips of fingers, spreading to his eardrums and settling heavy and aching in his chest. The hammer of blood in his ears is drowning everything else out and his chest feels like it could burst open if he'd let it. 

He's tempted. So tempted. 

His left knee trembles, mirrorlike to Kiyoshi's like it could give way too. Hanamiya can't scratch it away this time, when he tries it rushes forward new again and much more painful. 

He hates his fucking soulmate. 

...

Hanamiya can smell Hara thick on Seto's skin, through the sweat and aerosol, it makes him sick. Sick that he's the only one that can tell, everyone else on this team is a beta, merciful, Hanamiya believes. 

Those lucky bastards. 

He'd gotten so good at hiding the suppressants he takes, dotting them throughout the day, once before practice when he's alone in the locker room and then again later in a bathroom stall before he goes home and very much before the one prior has a chance to completely wear off. 

It's hard to focus on the ball, practice is more of a chore than usual, the room, the planks below him feel unsteady and polished enough he can't find any purchase. The thick scent of the alpha in front of him, Seto, makes him more nauseous than he usually does. He's never smelt good to him. Hanamiya would rather die than even consider him in any capacity, hook up or otherwise. However, he definitely wouldn't give Hara the same excuse. 

Thanks to his overuse of suppressants, not many know he'd presented as an omega at the end of middle school. Seto had smelt on him, and Hara knows one when he sees one. To Hanamiya's credit, neither of them treated him any different, not even Seto, he simply didn't care enough as an alpha to find it out of the "natural" order as it were. Not to mention Hanamiya would gladly break his kneecaps if he kicked up a fuss. 

Otherwise, practice passes in a tired monotony and by the end of it, Hanamiya's sore all over, more than usual, especially in his left knee where he's feels especially betrayed, despite the lack of damage. He'd been so proud of escaping the issue all together. 

And when he met Kiyoshi before the match. He'd immediately noticed the second alpha on the team, Kagami, which he has no problem ignoring, his scent is sharp and burning and Hanamiya does not like it one bit. But Kiyoshi? He hates how good his scent is and then it's much too late to go back on the thought because now it's stubbornly lodged into his very skin like every part of him yearns for Kiyoshi to join his very being down to the cells. 

He hates how even days later, Kiyoshi's scent is enough to make him consider going through his heats this year. 

Fuck. 

...

The next time they speak, Kiyoshi's still in the hospital and Hanamiya's carefully writing down the potential suspects for who gave Kiyoshi his number and resolving to end them. 

_I didn't know you presented. _is what he says over text, no emojis, no tone to infer either.__

____

____

Hanamiya would've preferred to have discussed the injury or Kiyoshi's own hatred for him, anything but his own status. 

_Who told you? _Hanamiya hopes it gets him straight to the root. He's not interested in this discussion one bit.__

____

____

_No one. _Kiyoshi says, in a separate message he sends, _I hope this isn't a sore subject for you Hanamiya.___

____

____

_____ _

_____ _

_Well tough luck stupid. _Hanamiya sends back, completely dismissing the implication of even texting him back in the first place.__

____

____

_I promise not to tell if that's what you want. _Hanamiya's stomach churns.__

____

____

Despite that, Hanamiya keeps texting him. He gives Kiyoshi crude cut short answers to his questions and replies, he can't seem to stop. After keeping it in for most of his life, he finds himself giving up the information voluntarily, it doesn't seem as palpable if Kiyoshi's not physically in front of him. If he ignores the fact that there's someone else on the other side of the chat, reading the messages, Hanamiya could convince himself it's like of those anonymous admission apps that people read for fun during breaks between classes. 

_You're like every other fucking alpha, is bonding the only thing on your mind? Don't ever fucking touch me, don't even think about biting me. _He says nose into his phone, jutting his thumbs against the keyboard harder than necessary, he's stalking from one class to the next, the hall crowded and yet he hasn't stumbled into anyone.__

____

____

His reply has been pure unabashed aggression no matter the context of bonding, considering it had yet to be about him, Kiyoshi's understandably confused with the responses and goes silent for the next hour or so until he texts back seemingly unfazed. 

Before Hanamiya even realizes, he's texted Kiyoshi continuously for about a month and a half. Hara's suspiciously absent when it comes to teasing him about the fact that he's begun to wait until the little notification comes up on his phone, more on edge than usual until he feels the telltale vibration of an incoming message. Kiyoshi tells him about school and Hanamiya indulges him, the injury and the fact that Kiyoshi's still in recovery, remains curiously untouched. 

And then the get togethers begin. Never on heat months, not that Hanamiya has them anyway, but he's not in any mood to risk it. But Hanamiya will let Kiyoshi fuck him and very hard preferably.

The first time had been after Kiyoshi waited outside of the Kirisaki Daiichi school gates. Hanamiya had spent fifteen minutes acting like he didn't know him until they were well away from the school and anyone that might see them. Far enough away that all the people fade out of focus and Kiyoshi's scent drifts to the forefront. Until Hanamiya can't think about anything else and his mother's working late that day so he drags Kiyoshi up the stairs to his bed room and Kiyoshi goes, smiling all the way, almost dumbly but deep down, Hanamiya knows better. 

That's why destroying him was necessary. 

But every touch is reconstructing something in Hanamiya's skin, healing the phantom ache in his knee, chipping away at it until Kiyoshi says something about being near him makes his actual injured knee hurt less. Hanamiya's ashamed at his clear lack of judgement, but he's drowning in Kiyoshi. In Kiyoshi's dumb smile, his vacant eyes, his tired breath. Where he only exists in the spaces between Kiyoshi's mouth and the condensation beading on his throat. 

Hanamiya has barely the threads of self preservation left to grasp and pull at, pushing at Kiyoshi as soon as possible once they've finished. Before either of them can get comfortable. Kiyoshi begins to get the memo, pretty much rolling out of bed in the same breath he comes, and with him he pulls the warmth and reconstruction like a crack in the window, the hot air rushing out with an inaudible whoosh that's felt immediately in his toes, in his fingers, in his chest. Cracks his knee like a pane of glass once more as if Kiyoshi had been the one to snap his fingers. Hanamiya shakes away the shivering and thinks of it as nothing. He's back to texting Kiyoshi who's already left, fifteen minutes later, feeling strangely empty. 

With the absence of heat, Kiyoshi never knots, they fuck like two betas to Hanamiya's relief. He showers right after, jerks off again to the echoes of Kiyoshi, his noises low and tempting, the movement of his hips and the mere forbidden thought of his cock knot and what exactly it would look like. Hanamiya turns the water cold but his skin is still hot enough it doesn't make a difference.

Kiyoshi's scent clings to his skin like soap. Hanamiya hadn't even noticed how much of a fixture it had become until he notices a distinct lack of alphas coming suspiciously near him on the train platform. He hadn't thought about it, he'd always been ready to lure a particularly forthcoming one into an alley and beat common sense right into them. That him being an omega did not mean he was defenseless. It did not mean he would submit because it was expected of him. 

Seto teases him sometimes. Playful ribbing that crosses the line because he thinks it's funny and Hanamiya does too if it means other alphas stay away from him. Seto says Hanamiya spends every heat with a different alpha, the alpha girls in third year, that he intimidated them into it. Hanamiya doesn't correct him. But he's never spent any heat with any alpha, much less intimidated someone into it. The utter ease with which Kiyoshi slipped into his bed terrifies him but he stays stony and tells Seto that those escapades keep people away from him. 

Just the way he likes. 

He still remembers his first heat as sharp and white hot and haphazard, barely old enough to handle it himself much less with an alpha, he was to go at it alone. He did and he hated every moment of it. How helpless it was to feel a pain so consuming there was no way out of it, no way to get away from it, more than once he panicked and believed he wouldn't get through it. He remembers the howls outside, he doesn't know if it was because of him or not but the mind of a thirteen year old going through his first heat is singular and fearful. 

As soon as he was able, suppressants became his best friend and he hasn't had a heat since. He decided there, during hour seven of indescribable fraying of his nerves that he would never go through it again, even if it meant abusing the system meant to help him. Even if it meant dulling the very nerves that smoldered in his gut to the detriment of his health. If it meant no heats, he didn't care. 

His doctor did not hold the same sentiment. In a voice that's sounds much too reasonable for Hanamiya to bare right then, she tells him he ought to take six months at least off of suppressants to completely flush his system, she says nerve damage is imminent if he keeps going the way he does.

And so that becomes Hanamiya's dirty little secret, his abuse of industrial grade suppressants finally there in the flesh to bite him in the ass. They were never meant to be used day to day and his doctor caught on immediately, fast enough Hanamiya resorted to unprescribed refills using her forged signature to keep them going.

The pills to him are him to Kiyoshi. He becomes Kiyoshi's little secret, Kiyoshi's little indulgence. Kiyoshi tells him that none of his friends know, he chuckles when he says Hyuuga would have some words for him and Hanamiya grimaces but he finds it funny. He finds Kiyoshi keeping something like this from his closest friend deeply amusing, he wouldn't have expected it of Kiyoshi and he says it as such. 

Kiyoshi's pulling his pants on when he turns red and says, back turned to Hanamiya, hiding from him, "I just don't think he'd get it."

"And just what about you fucking me would he not get?" Hanamiya pushes because it's what he's used to and by now Kiyoshi has become just one more of those things. A characteristic of personality, an idiosyncrasy unique only to him. 

"That." Kiyoshi says, his finger pressing the button of his jeans closed. Hanamiya eyes the ripple of Kiyoshi's shoulder blade so he doesn't have to look him in the eyes. The curve of his back before it disappears into his pants. The side of Kiyoshi's face looking at him, but not quite, Kiyoshi's fingers reaching for the spot he threw his shirt earlier but not quite reaching it. 

"Is it shame?" Hanamiya says outright. He's never not been confrontational and he seems to have hit the nail on the head because Kiyoshi turns back completely around again and pulls the shirt over his head. Hanamiya didn't expect the omega in him to pull taut and the mirror ache in his knee to flush hot and burning. They'd never spoken specifically about the mates thing but right then in that moment it felt consuming and unavoidable. As if he should've expected, and wanted, a different answer. Hanamiya doesn't understand why having it said out in the open makes it anymore real than when he pushes Kiyoshi out of bed and away from him but it does. 

It's been four months since this started and Kiyoshi is still unable to give him an answer. Kiyoshi who seemingly has an answer or at least a response to everything, is silent and Hanamiya hates it. Kiyoshi's supposed to have some dumb answer to all of this, the perfect amount of self justification that Hanamiya would let pass because it would mean they could keep doing this. It would mean he could remain in denial just a little while longer. 

But in an uncharacteristic bout of silence, Kiyoshi finishes pulling on his clothes and then he's gone and Hanamiya is alone. 

Kiyoshi stops texting him and Hanamiya stops replying, a mutual stalemate, where neither of them can pin point who threw the rock first so they attribute it to the neighborhood ghost and the shitty data connection. 

Hanamiya goes back to the way he was four months ago, attending practice and telling Seto he smells like shit, and making practice harder than its been all month, where Kiyoshi only existed on the stretcher and when he was taken away from court he was taken away from Hanamiya too. 

He's alone for all of a week before Hara suspiciously follows him early into the locker room one day before practice. He's usually always late. 

"You found them didn't you?" Hara says looking into the depths of his locker and not at Hanamiya who already looks like he's ready to fight him. 

"Found what?"

"That Seirin guy, he's your soulmate isn't he?" Hara says as offhanded as he can, as casual as one can when mentioning soulmates. 

"Hara--"

"I won't push," Hara says, already bringing up his hands in surrender, "I'm just glad you did Hanamiya, not everyone does--"

"Don't mention him in front of me again you got that?" Hanamiya rears like a cornered animal, like a desperate wounded animal. "I can't stand him, I'm better off alone," he says shoving his bag into his locker, it snaps shut, "I wish I didn't have one alright?" There's a finally in it that makes Hara take a step back. 

Hara's silent from then until he finishes getting dressed, he gives Hanamiya a look that can only be described as pity and before he leaves he murmurs, "You don't mean that." 

Hara visibly deflates, he probably wont speak to Hanamiya again for the rest of the week. It gives Hanamiya a headache, that his only true skill is pushing away the people that try to mean something to him. 

But Hanamiya continues, convinces himself that whatever they had was done and it's in the past. Even if his chest goes tight from the loss of contact, even if his left knee aches, even if the warmth is gone replaced by white hot heat. 

Hanamiya goes through his very first heat in nearly four years, completely alone in an omega designated hotel near a karaoke bar. He swears he can catch the synths through the thick glass, the beating of bass like a baton battering, the painful thud of his heart racing on adrenaline. 

It's just like how he remembered it. Completely regrettable and inescapable. Every inch of skin tingles and aches and swells red and angry, of tiny invisible pin pricks to the very nerves. Every inch of him compresses and flushes and breaks apart and misses Kiyoshi. 

Hanamiya writhes on the bed and curses at his own inability to eat his own pride alive from the inside out. The room is dunked in a dim lamp glow, warm yellow, any cool tones would set him on edge. He turns the lights completely off with shaking hands once a wave passes because he doesn't think he could look at himself and like what he sees. 

He'd insisted on it, staying here and his mother couldn't convince him to stay home no matter what she tried. He could handle himself. He could do it all on his own, even if his breath got short and his body shuddered fighting for oxygen, even if the heat tore him skin from muscle from bone and he couldn't get up the next morning. Even if Kiyoshi wasn't there to sooth it. He didn't need an alpha and he doesn't want one. 

It drops off on the third day, Hanamiya lies in bed most of the day spooning himself ice chips and sticking his hand down his sweat pants for relief when the little aftershocks are enough to change his focus from the variety show he's watching on the television. 

He's so achy it feels like he's done basketball practice for five hours straight with no breaks, everything's sore and he has a budding headache at his temples, every limb kind of lies there, completely limp, completely spent. He hadn't checked his phone since yesterday morning before his heat spiked again and he was gone for the remainder of the day. 

Hanamiya reaches over onto the nightstand and grabs for it, curls his hand around it. 

Three unread messages. 

Two from his mother hoping everything is going well. 

One from Kiyoshi. 

It's not shame. 

Hanamiya grits his teeth, jaw going tight. 

It was sent four hours ago. He was still asleep. 

Hanamiya types in the address and nothing more, sends it before he can talk himself out of it. 

Hanamiya gets in the bath and scrubs until he's red raw and all heat scent of him is gone, until all remnants of Kiyoshi is gone and he's back at his default until no one could guess because he simply smells of soap. When he gets out, water dripping all over the tile, Kiyoshi's sent him a message. 

_I'm outside. ___

__Ten minutes ago._ _

__Hanamiya throws on some clothes and the rest back into his backpack, he stuffs the last of the ice chips and the disposable container into the trash bin and checks out._ _

__He finds Kiyoshi a block away in front of the karaoke bar. Hanamiya wants to scratch out the instant pull that manifests inside him, still scraped and open and warm right off of heat when he sees Kiyoshi._ _

__Kiyoshi's smile is delicate and small._ _

__"My friends know I'm here," is what he says and Hanamiya takes in all the implications smashing together inside him all at once._ _

__Hanamiya laughs, he's so exhausted, too exhausted, "And they didn't lock you up somewhere for being out of your mind?"_ _

__"No," he says simply, "They understood, it wasn't easy--" he grimaces but his expression smooths out, "but, it was worth it."_ _

__"For them to know?" Hanamiya asks, an eyebrow raised._ _

__"No, because I get you."_ _

__Hanamiya looks up at him then, searches his eyes because there doesn't seem to be one hint of a lie in them._ _

__"Stop fucking around--"_ _

__"I'm not."_ _

__It stops Hanamiya in his tracks, he feels vulnerable, like he's ready to run, like he's not ready for this, like he's never been ready for this._ _

__"Kiyoshi, I don't think--"_ _

__"It's not shame. It never was. I don't think I could ever be ashamed of my soulmate." Kiyoshi says so steadily and readily, Hanamiya feels his insides crumbling, and when Kiyoshi smiles again, it's all coming back together, gloriously and elaborately and whole._ _

__Hanamiya clenches his fists, "I don't know what i want yet," is what he decides on, painful honesty._ _

__He catches Kiyoshi off guard because he notices the little quirk of his brow, the quirk of his lip._ _

__"That's okay Hanamiya. If you'll try, that's enough."_ _

__Hanamiya hates how unshakable he is, he thought he could destroy it, but he was so sorely mistaken, he thought he'd had the upper hand for once, but Kiyoshi has his every weakness written into the lines of his own palm, one touch and Hanamiya must face himself._ _

__"You think so?" He sounds unsure, uncharacteristic._ _

__"Yeah. I think so."_ _

__Hanamiya stands there for a moment, pushes out Kiyoshi, pushes out the cars passing by, the heat of the sun, the chatter of people, the fucking ringing of the door everytime someone enters the karaoke bar, and feels blissfully empty. All this time he's filled himself with suppressants and shame and what he thought he knew until he was too bloated to take in anything and here it all is spilling onto the sidewalk, across the gravel and concrete and into the street and all over Kiyoshi's shoes because Kiyoshi has carved it out of him because Hanamiya let him. Because for the first time, he's letting himself be honest in what this all is even though he barely knows what it even is after all this time._ _

__Kiyoshi reaches forward and smooths Hanamiya's hand in one of his own, intertwines their fingers and Hanamiya doesn't fight him. In fact, he squeezes and Kiyoshi reciprocates._ _

__"I think you smell pretty nice," Kiyoshi murmurs, coming in close enough to nudge the tip of his nose against Hanamiya's cheek._ _

__"You're not so bad yourself," Hanamiya admits._ _

__The way Kiyoshi grins, Hanamiya blinks up at him and every ache is gone._ _


End file.
